Dark Hearts
by Imadork121
Summary: Everyone thought the Boogeyman was gone. But it turns out, he hasn't even gotten started. Mavis and Johnny are being torn apart by the Dark Curse, and it is clear Dracula will have to face Raul Anul again. But Dracula seems to be gone, and no one knows exactly what he's been replaced with. Oh, and Wanda's pregnant again. Go figure. SEQUEL TO DARK LEGACIES, READ THAT FIRST.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE-  
"I rise to meet you as your innocence dissolves to shame.  
Oh, this innocence has turned and lost it's way,  
Retrace these footprints, of the path that I once came.  
I'm the beast in you, the beast in me.  
You can say I'm mad. You can say I'm crazy.  
But I'm only as bad as the maker who made me.  
Needle for the user  
The pain in your chest.  
Beggar and the chooser  
The wicked man's rest."  
-Passenger, 'The Wicked Man's Rest'

Nothing could have told him what would happen tonight.

Raul Corandi whistled softly to himself, in an effort to distract himself that tonight was a perfect night for witchcraft. He did not believe in that nonsense, but nevertheless, tales of ogres, vampires, werewolves, and witches ran rampant through his mind. He had grown up hearing fairytales from his mother at bedtime, and the tales had firmly placed themselves in his head, causing his imagination to run wild whether he believed in the legends or not.

The full moon was shining bright through the trees. Corandi looked up and realized it had a vague reddish color.

Peculiar, he thought. Red as blood. I've never seen anything like it.

From the distance, wolves howled. Corandi shivered, and trudged his way forward.

Not long later, he realized he had taken several wrong turns. He cursed to himself and scanned his surroundings.

This part of the forest was completely unknown to him. It was darker then anything he had ever seen before, and he didn't like it.

Nevertheless, Corandi kept going.

After a while, he stopped. It was so dark, he literally couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He blindly stumbled over roots and stones until he finally reached a clearing that Corandi believed was in the middle of the woods.

The trees formed a circle around a giant rock cluster, and the red moon was the only light in the clearing. It cast red shadows across over the rocks, and when Corandi could finally see his hand in front of his face, he saw that the moonlight had turned it bright red, as red as blood.

Curiousity getting the better of him, Corandi cautiously moved toward the rocks. He unknowingly stepped on one.

Almost immediately, Corandi heard voices in his head. It felt like they were being murmured in his ear, beckoning him to get closer to the rocks.

Corandi almost didn't obey. Something inside him was screaming at him not to move, but he found himself shuffling forward, one step at a time. The rocks seemed bigger now that he was closer to them. When he took one last step, they seemed to tower over him.

He started to understand the vague mutterings that seemed to flow from the cluster of rocks. When he listened closely, he could hear the words being translated to Romanian to English-

_"The first Blood Moon shall begin a curse,_  
_Called upon by a madmen's verse,_  
_The curse that seperates monster from man,_  
_From the dark forests to mountains of sand,_  
_The dark curse shall begin with Evil's bourne,_  
_Taking the blood drinker's form."_

The words ran through Corandi's mind_,_ and he realized it was a phrophecy. When he looked down, he yelped. A withered old man was lying crumpled at Corandi's feet. His eyes were closed, and he did not look conscious.

How could I not have noticed him? Corandi thought wildly. He knelt at the old man's side gingerly, not wanting to disturb him.

"Sir?" Corandi asked softly.

_"Daughter of the chosen, blood drinker's pride,_  
_Shall be the source of the great divide_  
_Possesed and cursed by evil's sire,_  
_Chosen consumed by dark fire."_

The old man's lips were moving, and Corandi jumped at the realization.

"Who are you, Raul Corandi?" The old man whispered. "A beggar? A chooser?"

"Pardon?" Corandi asked warily. He glanced at the man's eyelids. They were still closed.

_"Heart of the damned, source of shame,_  
_Beast of darkness, beast of tame_  
_Monster of will, empty eyes,_  
_Destroys the curse's ties."_

"A dreamer? A believer?" The old man continued. "Do you like parties?"

"I'm sorry, I don't-" Corandi was interuptted by the old man once again.

"You do don't you? Can't you see humanity is a lie? Do you not smell the festive laughter of their foolish celebrations?"

Suddenly, Corandi smelled fresh ale. He saw people laughing, dressed in festive costumes, filling their bellies with the finest food of the land. He sucked in a breath.

"Do you not see it?" The old man rasped.

"Yes..." Corandi murmured. "I do..."

"Then you are a fool." Corandi barely heard him over the noises of the party that represented all of his dreams, all of his desires, all of his fears. He wanted to join the party. He desperately wanted to mingle with the rich folk, tell stories, share gossip and laugh. It was like the scene was bringing out every emotion he had since he was a young boy.

"You are perfect," the old man's voice rasped. "but you need to learn. You will learn, and I will be gone, and the phrophecy that has been created will be fulfilled."

The vision vanished in a flash. The last thing Corandi saw was the dark form of a stallion galloping straight at him, screeching like no normal animal could, and the laughing face of the old man.

The old man's eyes were alternately changing between a bright, glowing red, and a pitch black.

Corandi's vision cut off with a burst of light, with one final verse:

_"Beware mortals, darkness nears,_  
_Feeding off thine thoughts and fears,_  
_Listening with hidden ears,_  
_The dark curse shall reappear."_

* * *

Dracula woke with a strangled gasp. His coffin lid swung open, and the Count flew out and to his mirror.

One glance was all he needed. The fact that his reflection was even there was disturbing, but not as much as his glowing red eyes. His eyes was the one thing Dracula was most concerned about.

Dracula turned away from the mirror quickly and to his set of drawers. From the top drawer, he pulled out a knife, tissues, bandages, and multiple towels that were stained with his own blood. He dropped to his knees, scattering the items he had taken from his drawers. Gripping the knife handle, he took a deep breath.

He plunged the knife into his own chest.

The Count winced, but didn't utter a sound. Slowly, he reached into his chest and pulled out his heart with a grunt, then a strangled moan.

Dracula wrapped it in tissues in a way that would disguise it's true form, and stored it in the bottom drawer. Breathing heavily, and trying to staunch the bloodflow using his hand, he pulled off his shirt and toweled off the blood. Then he bandaged himself. He staggered to his feet, and pulled his shirt back on.

Cleaning up the signs of his guilty, yet forced habit, Dracula checked his reflection again. His eyes had settled back to a normal blue.

Sighing, he climbed back into the coffin and closed the lid. Normally, he hated to leave the lid down, but ever since the events of the Blood Moon, his birthday, leaving the lid down gave him a strange sense of security more then his magic or armed guards ever could.

Nestling under the sheets, Dracula winced as the hole in his chest began to make it's presence known. But it was all neccesary.

Ever since he had murdered the people he loved, and sacrificed his aunt to bring them back.

No one remembered a thing, even though Dracula had literally killed every one of his friends, family, and hotel guests. Not his daughter, his best friend, not even Louie, the zombie who had been Dracula's servant since the Count was young. They had no idea that the Boogeyman was still at large. They didn't remember how Rossete had died, or who had killed them, then brought them back to life.

Part of Dracula wanted it to remain that way.

But most of him was bracing himself for what would come next.

A/N-I'm baaaack. Again, I strongly recommend you read 'Dark Legacies' to understand this story, because it probably won't make any sense to you if you haven't read it. So if you wanna read this, pleeeeease read 'Dark Legacies' first. To those of you who have read it already, then thank you for staying with me and my twisted imagination! More people wanted the part 2 of Dark Legacies to be published as a second story compared to part 2 being published along with part 1, so thank you for sharing your opinion. Updates might not be as fast, because I wrote the majority of Dark Legacies during the summer, and now that's school's started, I will definately update as much as I can.


	2. Depression

Chapter 1-Depression  
"But I, I am falling  
And if I let myself go I'm the only one to blame.  
I'm safe, up high,  
Nothing can touch me,  
But why do I feel like this partys over?  
No pain, inside,  
You're like perfection,  
But why do I feel this good sober?  
Coming down, coming down coming down,  
Spinning round spinning round spinning round,  
Looking for myself, sober.  
When it's good then it's good it's so good 'till it goes bad."  
-P!nk, 'Sober'

It was a full house.

"Everyone on the guest list has shown up, so has everyone that's not on the guest list!" Mavis said excitedly as she examined her clipboard.

"Wow," Johnathon deadpanned as he stared over Mavis's shoulder at her clipboard.

Frank grinned, and the Invisible Man shook his head.

"Maybe this'll get Drac outta his funk," Griffith said solemnly.

Mavis bit her lip anxiously, but Johnathon nodded.

"I bet it will!" Johnathon said optimistically. "Where is he anyway?"

Frank's face darkened. Murray looked away, but Griffith seemed unaffected.

"He's at Rossete's grave," Griffith said solemnly.

The hopefulness faded in Johnathon's eyes. He gave a glance towards the direction of the makeshift graveyard.

"I can go get him," Johnathon offered.

Frank shook his head. "That might make...it...worse."

"Make what worse?" Mavis asked, feeling a bit annoyed.

They were silent. Johnathon took it as a silent greenlight, and went to get Dracula.

He pushed past the members of the massive crowd, greeting them occasionally, until he finally got past them all and into the new Hotel Transylvania's garden. The hotel had been completely rebuilt almost exactly as it was before, besides the larger pool and the arcade built on Mavis and Johnathon's recommendation.

Yet Johnathon could still smell the smoke. He could still see the ashes that lingered here and there. He could still hear the Boogeyman's laugh.

Thinking of the Boogeyman sent the now-familiar feel of rage and fear down Johnathon's body, and he shivered. It was because of the Boogeyman that the hotel had been burned to the ground. It was because of the Boogeyman that Rossete, Dracula's aunt and Mavis's great aunt, was dead. It was because of the Boogeyman that Dracula seemed to be in a deep depression that not even Mavis could seem to pull him out of very long. It was all because of the Boogeyman, and the night of the Blood Moon when Rossete had died and the Boogeyman had seemingly dissapeared.

Maybe if one of the witnesses of the infamous Blood Moon remembered what had happened on the night of the Blood Moon, it would be easier. The last thing any of them remembered was watching Dracula engage in a heated battle against the Boogeyman, otherwise known as Raul Anul, and the next thing they knew, they were waking up in a pile of ashes, covered in blood.

The strange thing was, there were no other casualties besides Rossete. Johnathon almost could have sworn he had seen a few monsters die, but maybe they had just been knocked unconsious. No one besides Dracula was injured, even though a lot of them were covered in blood. The Boogeyman and Blackthorne, Dracula's crazed and demented father, had dissapeared. Rossete's body, Dracula's temporary catonic state, and the pile of ashes and blood that had seemingly come from no where were the only evidence that a battle had even occured, that the Boogeyman ever existed, that the Blood Moon was real.

It didn't take long for Johnathon to find the Count. Dracula had collapsed onto his knees and was staring at Rossete's tombstone. Johnathon bit his lip when he saw how thin his friend looked.

In the past month, Dracula had refused to touch a drop of blood, refusing even the substitute. That alone couldn't have been good for him, but he had only ever left his bedroom to visit Rossete's grave, and the result was skin that was even paler than usual and deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. He hadn't even bothered to slick back his hair like he normally did, and it hung loose around his shoulders.

Johnathon took a deep breath and walked up to him. Dracula looked even worse up close. It seemed like his cape was eating him alive, like Dracula was drowning in it's folds. He was hunched over, and his hands traced the carved letters on Rossete's tombstone.

ROSSETE ANTONESQUE  
BELOVED CAREGIVER  
GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN.

"Hey Drac!" Johnathon said cheerfully. "The grand opening's about to start! It's a full house man!"

"I will be there in a moment," Dracula said absently.

"C'mon man," Johnathon said, with a hint of desperation in his eyes. "Everyone showed up. Even those not on the guest list."

Dracula said nothing.

_Drac's going emo,_ Johnathon thought sadly. _What am I supposed to do now?_

"Gone but not forgotten," Dracula murmured, as if he had forgotten he was there. "How fitting."

_Yep. Drac's going emo. Oh God, what am I gonna tell Mavis if her dad refuses to come to the opening of his own hotel?_

"Drac, please," Johnathon begged. "Mavis wants you to be there! So does Frank, man, everyone's expecting you to cut the ribbon!"

"Mavis?" Dracula seemed to snap out of it, and turned around to face Johnathon.

"Yeah man," Johnathon found himself staring at Dracula's sunken cheekbones that literally cast shadows over his face. "We're waiting for you."

Dracula didn't move for a second. Then, he slowly got to his feet. Johnathon felt a twinge of relief.

"Great! Um-you should probably fix your hair." Johnathon mimed smoothing his hair back.

Dracula blinked, then ran his hand across the top of his head, reverting it to it's usual style.

"Nice. C'mon, everyone's waiting," Johnathon grabbed Dracula's wrist and led him in the direction of the crowd.

Johnathon could have sworn he felt Dracula jump when he took his wrist, but if that was so, Dracula soon relaxed.

He felt sad. What could have possibly happened at the Blood Moon that could have caused Dracula to be so...well...gone? That was the word for it. Dracula was gone, and if he wasn't yet, then he was drifting farther and farther away every time one of his friends tried to reach for him. The only reason he'd come back was if Mavis herself reached out, and even then, he wouldn't always come closer.

* * *

There was hush among the crowd when Dracula took the stage. Mavis wasn't sure what rumors had been flying around as of late, so she wasn't sure if any members of the crowd knew of Dracula's mental and seemingly physical decline. But as her father stumbled onto the stage holding her left arm with his right, it was quite obvious that he was unwell.

Whispers broke out, and Mavis felt her face flush, first in embarassment, then in anger. It wasn't their business that Dracula was slowly shutting didn't have the priviledge of talking about it.

Dracula didn't say much, just smiled at the crowd, although his smile seemed strained, held up the scissors that Frank had handed to him, then cut the ribbon in front of the new hotel's entrance. Cheers broke out, and within minutes, they had all stampeded inside to pig out at the new buffet table or to check out the arcade and the new rooms.

When Mavis, Johnathon, Frank and company finally found eachother, Dracula was gone.

"Where did he go?" Wanda sniffed the air for a moment.

"Probably back to his room," Griffith said dissmissively.

Mavis felt another flash of anger, this time towards the Invisible Man. Before she could lash out at him however, Frank beat her to it.

"You haven't really seemed to care," Frank snapped.

Griffith's glasses looked angry. "Why would you say that, Mister Big-And-Angry? You get mad at him every time he refuses to show up for dinner."

"I'm not angry!" Frank looked like he wanted to smash Griffith in the ground. "And he never shows up for dinner. You should know. Or maybe you don't! You haven't tried to help him in any way whatsoever!"

"The guy probably needs some space! He just lost his aunt!"

"And I just lost my mother!" Frank snarled.

"Well, Drac lost his to his own phsychotic father! You think you're doing him a favor by trying to get him to just snap out of it in two months time? You don't get over that kind of grief in just two months! If he has time to forget about it-"

"How can you forget this?" Frank bent over and picked up a pile of the still-remaining ashes. He let them fall through his fingers. "Are you trying to make him forget? Are you trying to make him wallow in his own grief? What about the Boogeyman? Do you seriously think he'll forget about that-that-thing that destroyed his life?!"

Once Frank mentioned the Boogeyman, everyone tensed. No one had forgotten the Boogeyman, especially Mavis. His laugh still rang in her ears, still haunted her nightmares every time she went to sleep and would wake up screaming. Then Johnathon would pull her into his arms, and she would calm down, but she knew she would wake up screaming for the rest of her undead life.

Mavis felt like she had to run once she heard her Uncle Frank mention the infamous Raul Anul.

So she did.

She morphed into a bat and flew away. She heard them all calling her name, but then she was gone, and cradling herself on the new roof.

Even though the roof was an exact replica of the old one, it didn't feel the same. It felt like something was missing. Mavis wasn't exactly sure what was missing, but she knew all the same.

_Maybe it's because my father's officially insane._

The word brought Mavis up short. Insane. Her father.

No, he couldn't be the same. Her father was Count Dracula! The most powerful vampire in the world. He couldn't be insane. It was impossible.

_But he's been acting differently lately._

_ You heard what the Fly said. He's in a catonic state! He's not insane! Just a short, temporary catonic state that's been lasting for..._

Two months.

_I've lost my mother. My great-aunt. My home. Now I'm losing my father too._

He's losing himself in a depression. _A stupid depression! Why is he even in a depression? What could have possibly happened on the Blood Moon that could have affected him like this?_

"Mavis?"

Thank goodness for her silly, but lovable boyfriend.

Mavis stood up, and ran into Johnathon's arms. He held her tight, stroking her hair softly.

"It's okay," He whispered into her ear.

"I'm losing him, Johnny." Mavis hadn't realized she was crying until now. "Dad. I've already lost my mother. Why do I have to lose my father too? Is it because my father lost both of them? Are we victims of some kind of curse?"

"Mavis, don't think like that."

"What if it's true? 'The Dark Curse shall reappear'? Remember? In the phrophecy? What if-"

"Mavis-"

"What happened that night, Johnny?" Mavis looked up into her boyfriend's eyes. "What-"

Mavis stopped.

_He knows what happened._

She felt like slapping herself. Of course Dracula knew what happened! They all knew that, but once the fact came crashing down, it was hard to ignore.

It was so obvious, so painfully obvious.

"Something happened on the night of the Blood Moon, Johnny."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Whatever it was is making my father act like this."

Johnathon stopped, and Mavis knew she was right. She realized that she, Johnathon, and the others had unknowingly pinned Rossete's death as the cause of Dracula's depression, unconsciously yes, but how could they have not realized this before?

"Something extremely big happened that night," Mavis repeated.

Johnathon looked grim. He looked away from her.

"What?" She asked.

"Whatever it was," Johnathon said slowly. "It was probably horrible."

Mavis bit her lip as she processed this. Johnathon was right, of course, but Mavis couldn't imagine what had happened that night that could have made Dracula sink so low.

So she stopped imagining it, buried her face in Johnathon's chest again, and cried harder.

* * *

Dracula was curled into a ball, a position which he had not taken since he was a young child. His head rested against the side of his bedroom wall. He was wrapped in one of his bedroom drapes as if it was a blanket.

He had no heart, but the guilt was still there.

Every time he saw his daughter, or one of his friends, all he could think of was killing them, snapping Mavis's neck, and sinking into their blood. Then he'd think of Rossete's grave, and he knew he had to hide before he killed them again.

_I am a monster, I am a monster, I am a monster,_

"Dracula."

There it was again. The voice that always lingered in the back of his mind, telling him to kill, kill, kill.

_Evangeline._

"Dracula!"

_IamamonsterIamamonsterIamamonster..._

"Dracula, I hate being ignored!"

Dracula opened his eyes. He saw a woman's face framed by red hair bending down into his, looking annoyed, yet slightly worried.

_Evangeline._

No. He had to be seeing things again. Evangeline was possessed by the Boogeyman. She was evil before that, after her and Dracula's relationship had an ill end. She was probably drinking tea with the Boogeyman and Blackthorne, having the time of her life.

"Get away from me." Dracula held his hands in front of his face, as a feeble protection.

"Dracula, it's me," Evangeline whispered. "My God, what's happened to you? Dracula, you have to listen to me!"

She slapped him in the face. Dracula's head jerked back and he blinked. Then he studied her again, and with a jolt, he realized he wasn't seeing anything.

She was real.

Dracula stood up and faced her.

"My God," Evangeline whispered. "You look even worse up close."

"You've looked better," Dracula croaked, and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping he looked stern.

What he said was true. Evangeline had black circles under her eyes. Her hair was matted, and hung in her face. She looked hunched and defeated, and when she leaned on her left foot, she hissed in pain.

But her eyes weren't red. Or black. Her eyes were a bright hazel, just as they did two hundred years ago, when her and Dracula were still seeing eachother.

"What happened to your eyes?" Dracula stared at her. "Did the Boogeyman finally ditch you and leave you behind?"

Evangeline bit her lip. "Much-has happened, yes," She admitted. "But we need to talk."

Dracula glared at her. "Give me a reason that I should trust you."

Evangeline opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked away before finally speaking.

"I can't."

Dracula uncrossed his arms and let them dangle to his sides. He stared at her, and realized how broken the woman standing in front of him looked. She seemed sad. Almost lonely. Pity flared in his heart, but he supressed it with caution. The last time he had shown her mercy, she had stabbed him in the back (literally) later on.

But she could have valuable information about the Boogeyman. Dracula knew that Raul Anul was not gone. Neither was his father.

Just thinking about his father made his stomach clench, and that made up his mind. One of the many things he hadn't been able to banish from his mind was the idea that his father could be saved from the Boogeyman's control.

"Fine." Dracula gave her a pointed glare. "But if you betray me again, then I won't let you off easily again."

Evangeline nodded, as if she had been expecting those words, and yelped as she accidently leaned on her left foot again. Dracula took her hand, and sat her on top of his closed coffin.

"Tell me everything," Dracula ordered.

* * *

Corandi awoke with a sharp pain in his head.

He sat up.

He was lying in a pool of black liquid that looked a bit like tar, except it had a liquid texture to it, and was not sticky.

It looked like black blood.

Corandi saw his reflection in the pool of black, and it seemed to become clearer the longer he stared, almost as if it was responding to his will.

The first thing he noticed was the his eyes were changing to red to black.

The second thing he noticed was that he looked like a ghost.

His entire body had turned into black mist, like he had somehow become a shadow. Corandi touched a finger to the pool of black, and it rippled, gradually turning to red.

It looked like blood.

_O' Holy Spirit,_ Corandi thought. _What hast you turned me into? What monster am I now?_

_ What am I?_

A/N-So, I'll likely update at least once a week or so. School's been a killer lately, and I just failed my Spanish test, so I'm going to have to study more or my parents'll take my laptop away until my grades go up. Just wanted to warn you.


	3. You Will Choose Darkness

Chapter 2-You Will Choose Darkness  
"Seperate, sifting through the wreckage,  
I can't concentrate, searching for a message  
In the fear and pain,  
Broken down and waiting for the chance to feel again,  
Now in my remains,  
Are promises that never came  
Set the silence free  
To wash away the worst of me,  
Come apart, falling in the cracks  
Of every broken heart  
Digging through the wreckage of your disregard,  
Sinking down and waiting for the chance to feel alive."  
-Linkin Park, 'In My Remains'

Mavis's first thought was to speak with her father, but she decided against it. Knowing Dracula, he wouldn't tell her a thing, to protect his 'Mavy-Wavy.' She knew that her new mission would have to take her behind her father's back. Thinking about that made her wince in guilt, but she told herself it was for his own good. If she could figure out what had driven Dracula so low, he could be given help.

Johnathon, however, wasn't so enthusiastic.

"Do you really think it's such a good idea to go behind his back like this?" Johnathon asked. "Maybe he's just going through this his own way, and he'll bounce back."

"Johnny, he was never like this when my mother died!" Mavis argued. "I heard Uncle Frank say it myself. He knows something's wrong too, but he's afraid that if he pushes too hard, something in my dad will snap, and he'll be worse off then before! We can't risk that!"

"Mavis..." Johnathon ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated.

"Please Johnny," Mavis begged. "I can't do this without you!" Mavis held his gaze for a moment. "Please," She pleaded.

Johnathon hesitated. The conflict in his eyes was clear: His loyalty to Dracula versus his loyalty and love for Mavis.

Eventually, the magic of the zing won out.

"Fine," Johnathon sighed. "What's your plan?"

Mavis looked solemn. She looked into his eyes, studying them for the reaction that was about to come.

"We have to find the Boogeyman."

Almost immediately, a shudder ran through Johnathon, and chills grew up the couple's backs.

"Mavis," Johnathon began as calmly as he could. "That's-"

"Insane, I know. But-Johnny, don't you see? He's the one who started everything. Dad mentioned once that he made deals. Well, let's make a deal of our own!"

"What do you have to give Mavis? What will you give him?" Johnathon asked, feeling slightly nervous.

"I-" Mavis stopped. The unpreparedness in her plan suddenly made itself clear to her, forcing her to stop. And think.

Her silence revealed everything to Johnathon, who nodded. Then he gripped her shoulders and pressed his head against her forehead.

"Mavis, we have to think about this," Johnathon murmured. "You have to have a plan."

"I do!" Mavis lied. "I do..."

"Then tell me what it is." Johnathon stared at her accusingly. Mavis felt like she was withering under his gaze.

She hated to dissapoint Johnny. As much as she loved him, she always felt like their love was delicate. She was afraid one little mistake would wash it all away, and she would be left with nothing more then a broken heart. That fear had increased since the Blood Moon. It always felt like one mistake would ruin everything with Johnny-and she would lose him.

Of course, the thought was ridiculous. She would never lose him. Right?

"Think about it." Johnathon gripped her hands and kissed her. Then he walked away, knowing that he was leaving her to think.

Mavis stared into space for a moment.

_"What will you give him?"_

What did she have to offer that would save her father's sanity? What more would the Boogeyman want from her?

Suddenly, she knew. She knew, but it scared her. Scared her more then anything ever had before, more then her childhood fear of humans hiding under the bed with pitchforks.

Was she really going to go that far to save her father?

_Of course not!_ She snarled at herself angrily.

Then the doubts came back. Dracula would do it for her, wouldn't he?

Yes. Yes he would.

Mind trying to decide, Mavis placed a hand over her chest, were she felt the slow beating of her undead heart.

* * *

Even as she talked, Evangeline seemed to be watching his every move. Dracula couldn't help but feel uneasy.

"Raul Anul discarded me as soon as the Blood Moon was over," Evangeline said bitterly. "He said he had a new plan and I was no longer useful to him."

"A new plan?" Dracula felt the now-familiar horrified dread wash over him. And, like usual, it turned into guilt.

"I didn't get the specifics. But he wants you dead. No, not dead. He wants you dissolved into nothing. He wants you torn to pieces, then destroyed inside out. He wants you to slowly become a shadow of what you once were. And that's an actual quote."

Evangeline watched him for a reaction. She got none. Dracula didn't move.

Yet he gave a start when she touched his cheek.

"It seems like he's doing a pretty good job," Evangeline said softly.

"Evangeline-" Dracula stopped in mid-sentence. Whatever he wanted to say had evaporated before he even had a chance to think about what he was going to say. But his mouth moved on it's own after he paused.

"What about my father?"

Evangeline stared at him in shock. Dead silence. Silence wasn't supposed to have a sound, but that was exactly why it rang so loud.

"Why," Evangeline started carefully. "Do you need to know?"

Why did he? Because he'd been thinking about so often? Because he had been going over his mother's words in his head.

_"He loved you once."_

Dracula wanted to know his father. Not the man who had killed his wife. Not the man who had turned an entire town against his young son. But the man who had held a young baby in his arms and smiled with genuine happiness. Dracula wanted to know the man he was never meant to know, thanks to the Boogeyman. But why?

The answer was simple-Dracula wanted to know if Count Blackthorne could be saved.

"What has Raul Anul done to him?" Dracula asked. "His grip on him doesn't seem...normal."

"What do you mean?" Now she was interested. She had her arms crossed, and was staring at him, ready to memorize and analyze every word.

"I don't know..." Dracula said softly. "Did he ever take your heart?"

Evangeline shook her head, and averted her gaze to the floor. "I don't know. I don't remember much about what happened. How he had me wrapped around his little finger."

Dracula nodded slowly. "Have you seen him take anyone else's hearts?"

"No. Besides, Blackthorne told me stories. He said Raul Anul wouldn't bother to leave the ones who's hearts he ripped out alive."

"Isn't that a little strange?" Dracula pressed. "I mean, why would he take my father's heart then keep him as a servant? I've been thinking...maybe there's some hypnotism involved, maybe there's not. But...I'd like to know."

"Drac..." Evangeline paused, searching for words. "You can't show weakness."

Dracula stared at her. "What?"

"You can't show weakness." Evangeline said again. "Not to the Boogeyman. You can't show him-I mean, you can't try to-well-"

"Can't try to what?" Anger was boiling in the pit of Dracula's stomach.

"You can't try to save your father!"

Silence was quick to come. Dracula stared at her, trying to see if she really meant it. She couldn't have meant it, right? But she was speaking the truth. Dracula saw it in her eyes.

"Are you-insane?!" Dracula almost screamed. "You-he-"

"You said it yourself! Whatever grip Raul Anul has on him is not normal. Repeat: _not. Normal_!"

"You know what being controlled by him is like!"

"Yes! I know! It's torture! But if it's any consolidation, it's not torture until you finally are released. When you finally wake up, you come to your senses. Then you realize what you've done, and it consumes you! The guilt eats you up until you're not even sure if you're you anymore. You don't know if you're the monster who ruined lives and killed others...or if you're still the same person you were before!" Evangeline took a deep breath. "Your father-he's not in any pain right now. But he will be if you wake him up! Drac, _don't you get it?!_ Blackthorne's murdered his own wife, your _mother_! How will that affect him?! How will he react when he realizes that his _own son_ used to hate his very being?!"

"But I-I'm not even sure if I hate him anymore!" Dracula froze.

_What did I just say?_

Evangeline went on as if she hadn't heard him. "Drac," She pleaded. "Please. We'll focus on destroying the Boogeyman first, then we'll see what we can do for your father. All right?"

Dracula's mind was a million miles away, but the word came out on it's own-"Okay."

Evangeline nodded, looking relieved. "Good."

She couldn't have missed his last statement. But whether she was just choosing to ignore it or if she was willingly keeping quiet about it, Dracula wasn't sure. If it was the latter, he was grateful. He had enough to worry about.

Knock knock knock knock.

"Drac? You in there buddy?"

Evangeline gave a start. Dracula grabbed her shoulders, dragged her to the curtain he had had himself wrapped in mere moments ago and pulled it over Evangeline. He ignored her muffled sounds of protest, and called out.

"Yes, Johnathon, I'm in here."

"Okay. Can I come in?"

Dracula glared at the bundle of curtain pointedly, with no response. "Yes, you may."

His door creaked open, and Johnathon's wild tuft of hair was visible. The boy was carrying a tray of food, and he looked unusually nervous.

"Hey man. I brought you food." Johnathon held out the tray for emphasis.

"Yes I noticed." Dracula suddenly felt a cold shiver creep up his spine, and he wrapped his cape around himself.

"Look, I was thinking that maybe we could talk?" Johnathon stared down at his beat-up sneakers.

"About what?" He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but he knew exactly what Johnathon wanted to speak to him about.

"Well...it's just that Mavis has been really worried about you. We all have been, actually..."

"Johnathon, I am perfectly fine." Dracula shuddered, and tightened his cape around his body. "I've just been...thinking. A lot. Lately."

"A lot?" Johnathon shook his head. "Drac, it's been two months."

"I'm perfectly aware of how much time has passed." Dracula was beginning to feel a headache coming on. More then that, he was starting to hear whispers. Vague, mumbling, incoherant whispers, that made no sense whatsoever. He shook it off the best he could.

"I am fine."

Johnathon stared at him in disbelief. " 'I'm fine?' Have you taken a look at yourself lately? How can you even say that?"

Dracula winced. Has Johnathon always been this loud?

"Johnathon..." He pleaded. "Not now. Please..."

Johnathon paused. He stared long and hard at his friend (and possible father-in-law) before resuming his rant.

"Drac, c'mon. What happened that night?"

Dracula gave a start. He stared back at Johnathon with growing horror.

Did he know? He must at least suspect, right? Right?

"Do you..." Dracula's voice broke.

"I'm asking because I don't remember anything that happened that night. Seriously man, what happend? Did you lose the fight with the Boogeyman or something?"

Dracula pressed his hands to his temple and managed to supress a moan of pain. His headache was growing, and all of a sudden, he felt sick. Really really sick.

"Something like that," He managed to choke out.

Johnathon looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. The internal battle was raging in his eyes when he gave a nod, and headed back out the door. Before he could leave however, he stopped to speak once more.

"Look, if you ever want to talk-well, we're here. We're all here. Because we need you." Johnathon paused. "Mavis needs you." He added. Then he left.

Evangeline mananged to untangle herself from the curtain and stood at Dracula's side. The Count was staring at the closed door as if he was willing it to open.

After a long silence, she spoke up. "You haven't told them."

"No," Dracula replied.

"Why?"

"How am I supposed to tell them what I did? Do I just look them in the eye and say, 'Oh, yeah, by the way, I killed every single one of you. And then I sacrificed-"

"Stop."

"And then I sacrificed my own aunt, the one who raised me, to bring you all back! What's for dinner?"

"Drac, stop!"

"It's over, Evangeline!" Dracula whirled around to glare at her. "You worked for him once! You did his bidding!"

"Where are you going with this?!" Evangeline snapped.

Dracula glared at her. "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out. This is my hotel. I should have kicked you out when I had the chance. You worked for him. If you hadn't let him use you-"

"Drac, please." Her voice was pleading.

"If you hadn't given in to his evil, maybe my aunt would still be alive!"

Dead silence. Evangeline looked shocked, then she looked like she wanted to rip his head off. Dracula felt an odd mixture of regret, sadness, and something strange-satisfaction?

Yes, satisfaction. Satisfaction that it wasn't entirely his fault.

"Did I kill your friends?" Evangeline snapped. "Did I kill your daughter? Did I make a deal with the devil to bring them back? Did I sacrifice your free will and heart to that-that-beast? No. I didn't you did."

The satisfaction was gone as quickly as it came. Dracula's head was pounding. He shot Evangeline a glare, but his knees trembled.

After a long moment, they finally gave out.

* * *

Corandi wandered aimlessly throughout the forest. Moments ago, a man with a cart and horse had almost run him over. When he had tried to ask for a ride back to the nearest village, the man had screamed in horror as sson as he saw Corandi's eyes. Even the horse had seemed spooked by Corandi's presence, and had nearly ran him over.

After that incident, Corandi vaguely wondered if it was a good idea to go back to a village. What would his presence bring?

At the moment, he just pulled the hood of his cloak further over his head, trying to hide as much of his face as he could. He had lost his reflection hours ago, so he was relieved that he didn't have to look at his own eyes any more.

Whatever he was now, Corandi didn't want to even know.

His stomach grumbled. Corandi's hunger was made aware once again. When had he last eaten? Hours? Days? How long had he been wandering in the forest?

It felt like an eternity.

_Eternity..._a voice whispered in the back of Corandi's mind. _Eternity is long, very long indeed. But how long will you last?_

"Who are you?" Corandi whispered, barely audible.

_I am you. At least, now I am you. But are you me?_

"I don't understand."

_Kill. Rip out their hearts. You hunger, yes? Then eat! Eat flesh! Drink the blood of your enemies! What about the blood of that man you hate so, yes? Wouldn't you like to hear his scream? To rip out his heart?_

"I wouldn't want to do that to anyone!" Corandi protested.

_Bah! You will learn. How far will you be willing to dedicate yourself to darkness?_

"Darkness? You mean evil? I don't want to be evil!"

_You will..._the voice hissed. _You will. You will have enough power to do as you want. To save your brother._

Rhett. Corandi remembered the name. Of course. His beloved little brother. How could he had forgotten him? That's what he had to do! He had to get back to his little brother, to make sure he was still doing all right.

Yet the voice would not leave him alone.

_ You will choose darkness..._

A/N-Interesting. Right when I say I'll update once a week, I wait three weeks before I finally update. Sorry about that guys, I hope the delay won't be as long next time.


End file.
